


Borrowed Time

by geishakamameha



Category: Constantine (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 12:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3381887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geishakamameha/pseuds/geishakamameha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly cast a spell on Sherlock the night before he jumped intending to give one of her souls to save him in case things went wrong. What she did instead was bind a part of her own soul to him, making her endure all the physical harm that the consulting detective suffers. </p><p>She turns to an old friend to see if the effects of the enchantment could be undone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Borrowed Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is my second work here in AO3 and the other one is still in the works. This was posted in my tumblr account a few days ago and I was reluctant to post this on a fanfiction site because I might not be able to develop the story further than what I've written. I don't read the comic books so I have limited knowledge of Constantine from the TV series. But I had an itch with the idea and surprisingly there are no crossovers written for these two fandoms yet. I took some logic from the show about how Chas got his powers and ran with it. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The end of the day was always a relief. Especially after the day she had.

Her crappy day started with a broken alarm clock and an empty left side of the bed that reminded her of her recent break up. It was amicable and very polite but it made her question why would she want to be alone again after finding a bloke who finally loved her for all that she was. To top it off, she was feeling disoriented and a little bit wretched. It reminded her of the hangover she had after experiment with dope with her friends in Uni some years ago. She had been feeling this for a while on and off for the past month. She had tried to test her own blood to see if she had been drugged and tried to look up some of the symptoms but her she was clean and the feeling would go away after a few hours so she didn’t try to dig deeper.

She was almost late for her shift at 8 and immediately after arriving, she received a call from John Watson telling her that Sherlock Holmes needed to pee in a cup.

Her jaw clenched at the implication and in her anger she spun around too quickly, making her dizzier. She had an uncomfortable heat pooling in her stomach but she pushed through it and started getting the equipment ready for a toxin scan.

By the time the Watsons, Sherlock, some kid and some dirty homeless man got there she was having cold sweats but immediately shoved a plastic container into the consulting idiot’s face and told him to pee in it.

“I’ll make sure he does it.” John volunteered to guard the bathroom door.

Sherlock only rolled his eyes and took the cup with him as John pushed him out of the lab to go to the nearest loo.

Mary noticed her forehead perspiring a little and placed her hand on it to feel her temperature.

“You okay there Molls? You don’t have a temperature but you’re sweating a bit.”

Molly blew a raspberry closed her eyes. “It’s nothing. Just feeling a bit queasy today. It will go away later.”

Mary let it go and tugged the other two with her to wait near the counter.

John and Sherlock appeared a few minutes later with John holding the container and gave it to Molly to test.

It took 15 minutes to do the test and John asked “Well, is he clean?”

Molly was not surprised at the result and just by looking at him, anybody can see he had been shooting up for a while.

“Clean?” Molly marched up to him and slapped him out of nowhere. She took another swing immediately after the last and finally another one for effect.

Sherlock rubbed his cheeks while everyone else stared at her in shock.

“How  _dare_  you throw away the beautiful gifts you were born with?” She glanced at John and turned back to him. “And how  _dare_  you betray the love of your friends? Say you’re sorry.”

She was fuming mad and her hands throbbed a bit after the slapping.

“Sorry your engagement’s over – though I’m fairly grateful for the lack of a ring…”

Her eyes zeroed in to the faded scar just below his left ear. Molly unconsciously touched her own neck in the same spot remembering a similar wound appearing from nowhere more than a year ago. She looked at him and started noticing his symptoms. He was coming down from the high and was having cold sweats. His eyes were unfocused, his lips were dry, and his breathing is shallow.

She inhaled sharply as she realized what it was. Her eyes prickled as a sharp pain in her chest was making it hard for her to breathe.

“Stop it.” She was trembling. She didn’t want him to see her cry or get sick and she hastily removed herself from the room and ran to the ladies.

She heaved the contents of her empty stomach that was forming a bad acidic taste in her mouth.

She flushed and put down the toilet seat so she could sit down. She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palms trying to rub off the moisture.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!” She kicked the stall door as she shouted the last expletive. Her mind reeled as she remembered all those random injuries she got from that time Sherlock had played dead. The first was a deep cut on her forearm. She was able to staple it and bandage but it was fine the next day. It didn’t alarm her because that’s usually what happens when she gets injured. A few days later was a painful sprain on her right ankle. Based on the pain she felt, it was a slightly torn ligament. But that immediately disappeared a few hours later. The worst was a stab wound on her abdomen that took her more than 12 hours to recover from. She didn’t really mind the injuries because of the gift she received from an unfortunate event 15 years ago.

Unfortunately now, her hasty decision to place that protection spell on Sherlock that night before he jumped had been biting her in the ass ever since.

Molly’s maternal grandmother was a descendant of an occult who dabbled in witchcraft and sorcery. Her Nan wasn’t practicing the old ways but they passed down artifacts and books to her and Molly came upon it in her teens. To her parents’ dismay this was during her rebellious teen years. She discovered the books in her Nan’s attic which started her interest in the family tradition. She only tried harmless spells in those books but when she met a John Constantine and his band of friends, she started learning more about magic. She was the youngest in their group but it didn’t take long for her to learn and she experimented more with it until that exorcism in Newcastle. They separated for a while. She saw John and the others on and off while she was in Uni. She went to Queen’s University in Belfast and took up residence in the dormitories.

One night out with John and Chas in a pub after a grueling midterm, she invited them to Belfast to hang out with her and try to get past from what happened two years previous. Everyone got pissed off drunk but none like John did. As they said their farewells, John in his drunken stupor, took the lid off the salt shaker, put a handful of salt in each hand, threw it around her, then grabbed her head and started chanting something in Latin. She asked what that was about.

“It’s a protection spell Molls. I think one invented by Merlin himself. “He grinned at her silly and tipped a bit over until Chas pulled him before he landed on Molly.

“Okay there, Merlin, let’s get you falling asleep in a proper bed and let Molly get back to campus.” Chas takes an arm to lug him away.

“Thank you for coming to see me guys. It was nice catching up.” Molly smiled and waved goodbye.

“Take care Molly Hooper. I’m sure you’ll be a great doctor someday.” Chas dragged the drunk magician and left her on the pavement outside the pub.

Her walk back to her dorm was uneventful but during her sleep, a great earthquake shook the city that took down unstable buildings including her dormitory. She woke up under the rubble and was underneath the debris until she was found a day after. 53 people died from her building, sparing only a few that were not in the building during the earthquake. Judging from where she was found, it was a miracle that she survived from a building collapsing on top of her.

John and Chas visited her in the hospital. As Chas was away to find some snacks, John explained to her why she survived. Apparently she did technically die but the protection spell saved her. Everyone else who died their souls are now with her, making her able to die 53 times.

Molly was horrified at the thought and asked him to take it away. “I’d rather die than carry 53 souls, John. I should’ve died.”

“I thought that spell was a myth Molls. I didn’t think that it would actually work.”

“John, what about the family of those 53 people? It’s not fair.”

“I can’t do anything about it. Be grateful you’re alive after your time. Not everyone gets a second chance let alone 53. That just means you owe it to them to become the best doctor you could be. You’re already the kindest person I know. I’m sure you’ll do great things in your life that will justify this gift.” John took her hand in his right and ruffled her hair with the left.

It was when she got mugged and stabbed to be left for dead a year after that incident and she saw her gift in effect. She woke up in the same alley the next day but the stab wound was gone and there wasn’t any bruising from the broken rib. She looked like hell though but she was totally fine. Even after that one time with the heroin, the effects only lasted a bit and she was okay a few hours later.

The protection spell she used on Sherlock wasn’t the one John casted on her. It was from her Nan’s books. She wanted to transfer one of the souls she possessed to Sherlock in case he had gotten killed during the confrontation with Moriarty. Apparently, he didn’t need it. She wracked her brain to remember where she got the spell.

After her rotten day, she was now back in her flat. She fixed some dinner and fed her cat before she dug into her closet to find that spell she used on Sherlock. It was in an old tome that had missing pages. In her haste that day, she didn’t read what the spell was used for only that it transfers a piece of one’s soul to another person. It apparently was a binding spell used as a pagan marriage ritual. Both parties give a piece of their soul to one another and it connected them to each other. Couples that have been bound by the spell will have physical reparations. They will feel and experience each other’s pain and they die together because of it.

“How very Shakespearean…” She flipped to the next page to see if she can undo it, but the next pages were missing. “Bollocks.” She ran her hand through her face.

She loved Sherlock Holmes and would gladly die for him but now it was quite literal. So far she had encountered 12 injuries that were healed by her gift and left her with 41 more souls to spend. But is it really worthwhile to spend the rest of her lives dying for this man?

That very moment a sharp searing force erupted from her chest. She clutched her chest to find a bleeding wound just above her heart. The pain didn’t register at first and she knew she was going into shock. She tried to stand only to fall from the numbness that was starting to creep up from her legs. She collapsed, landing on her front, letting the blood from the wound flow out. Her vision started to blacken on the edges until all her strength drained and she fell unconscious on her bedroom floor.


End file.
